It was innocent enough. Pull out some home videos and let the kids have a good laugh at silly things they once did.

It seemed like a good idea, since I was too lazy to rent a movie. Besides, we've never really watched any tapes my wife and I so purposefully produce of family moments.

If this is something you don't regularly do, beware. Deep emotions you may not know you have can surface in an instant and change you forever.

That's what happened to me last weekend, but I'm glad it did.

The tape was five years old and showed my two boys at ages 3 and 6. We were living in Kansas and the film showed, as most do, Christmas morning, a birthday party and some silly moments. There's even a segment when my 6-year-old loses his pajama bottoms and runs to the camera asking me to "skip over that part." Of course, I didn't "skip over that part" and will one day use it against him. But as he said that in the tape, I wondered if I would have remembered the moment had I not recorded it. I'm afraid the answer is I probably would have forgotten it, and I started to feel sad about parts I did skip over.

My original plan worked, however. As the tape went on, we laughed out loud and wondered what ever happened to that must-have Christmas toy. "I use to love that thing," I heard more than a few times. But as we watched 60 minutes of what's been a blessed life, my heart began to ache and I felt sick. You see, there is no way it's been five years since that video was taken.

I remember shooting it just last year, when diapers and pacifiers were a primary concern and learning to ride a bike was a milestone to be met. Missing front teeth were cute and speech problems were something to be fixed, not enjoyed for the weird "words" they produced.

What happened? How can you miss five years of two people that live in your house and for whom you're responsible? My wife assured me I didn't miss it; it just flew by, just as people warned us it would whenever we looked tired and haggard with two little ones in tow. I remember more than a few strangers watching us in restaurants, then coming over and putting their hands on one of our shoulders, saying, "Enjoy this time. They grow up fast."

I should have known then it must be a universal thing if strangers were saying it to me. Why didn't I listen? I've enjoyed our children beyond measure, but have I savored every minute? No. I'm not even sure how to do that, but I'm going to start trying. Because as I've shared this story with empty-nesters, I've been informed the next five years are going to go by even faster.

I can't see how, but who am I to question this wisdom a second time? I promise to believe.

There's a country song that goes something like, "You're gonna miss this / you're gonna want this back / you're gonna wish these days, hadn't gone by so fast ... you may not know it now, but you're gonna miss this."

I bet that song was born after the writer opened up a shoebox of home videos one weekend and wondered what happened to the last five years.

My wife assured me it's going to be fine. In fact, she said she goes through these feelings every few months. She remedies it by hugging the kids a little harder and maybe giving in to them a little more. But, most importantly, she tries to savor each moment because she knows children are gifts that we have for a short time.

I'm one week into savoring the moments, and the ache has subsided a bit. My boys don't know what to make of their dad hugging them so much or asking them to put the video game down so we can play Army or just wrestle. I hope they like the new me. I know I do. My hope is that life doesn't get in the way of my new plan.

I don't think it will - but one thing is for sure: From now on, I won't need a home movie to remind me that time flies.